


Green-Eyed Demon

by FantasyPrincess



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Aziraphale was careless with lovers, Feelings, Jealous Crowley (Good Omens), M/M, No Betas We Fall Like Crowley, This Is Why We Can't Have Nice Things, what if
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-19
Updated: 2019-08-15
Packaged: 2020-07-08 21:49:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,050
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19876630
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FantasyPrincess/pseuds/FantasyPrincess
Summary: Crowley has always been jealous of Aziraphale's lovers, who he's always so careless with. But this time the lover turns it around on the Angel, and the Demon ends up comforting him.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Time to talk about our feelings, boys!

Aziraphale dusted the shelves in the Bookshop. A human tradition he kept up mostly for appearances. As sure as Crowley put the fear of himself into his plants, the Angel made clear that any dust, which lingered, would surely get a good sound reprimand. Still, it was a Bookshop, with many an ancient tome, and needs must for appearances sake.

The tiny bell at the front chimed, and Aziraphale straightened his vest, putting down the duster. “Be with you momentarily,” he called from the back, putting on his best proprietary air.

The man was tall, well, taller than Aziraphale at any rate, which was not a difficult feat to manage. He faced the door when he first walked in, his raven black hair in perfect streaks and curls down his back, draped lovingly over a bespoke finely stitched suit jacket. When he turned, his hands were in midair having just examined some book or other, and his long fingers seemed to be tasting the air above all the spines on that shelf.

Aziraphale looked at him sideways for a minute and then cleared his throat. “Can I help you?” He murmured; his mouth suddenly dry.

“Perhaps,” the man said. His voice was like sharp honey, and his eyes were the most lovely shade of green. Now that Aziraphale could see his angular face properly, his hair fell more like a curse around it, framing him perfectly. Aziraphale gave a halted smile, already finding it hard to think. “I’m looking for a first edition,” and those long fingers handed Aziraphale a folded slip of paper.

The Angel took it, inclining his head, unable to resist his hand from brushing the cool skin and he felt a shudder go through him, who quirked an eyebrow and carried the ghost of a smirk. The Angel found he had to tear himself away from his eyes to read the paper and felt abandoned by them.

He cleared his throat. “I uh - I don’t have this one at the very moment, but I’ve quite a few keen suppliers who I’m sure can help. Will yo—” he began, again looking at him, drowning in his own desires, “come back? For the book, obviously,” he hastily added.

The man advanced on Aziraphale, completely coming too close, until they were nose to nose, gripping the paper which the Angel held aloft for him, letting their wrists touch. “Oh, Mr. Fell, I think that would be preferred.”

The bell chimed again. “Aziraphale, you in?” came Crowley’s voice. “I’ve got some fantastic -- news.” He stopped, watching the two men who hadn’t even moved. “Am I interrupting?” Crowley was immediately defensive, but then, this didn’t seem threatening at all… And that made him get even more territorial.

The dark-haired man smiled but Aziraphale could tell it was all for him. “Just - putting in an order,” and he inclined his head to the Angel before smiling at Crowley on his way out.

“Well, who was that?” Crowley asked, his voice betraying nothing, but inside he was seething that the man seemed, regrettably, three quarters inches taller than himself.

Aziraphale was leaning on the writing desk, looking after him through the windows. “Haven’t the slightest,” he said, the dreamy look Crowley recognized plain on his face.

The Demon frowned, “Please, Angel, he’s not worth the trouble,” and he waved his hands brazenly in front of Aziraphale, snapping to get his attention.

Aziraphale looked at Crowley, obviously distracted, “Worth what?”

“Come off it,” he said, folding his arms like a petulant child.

Aziraphale finger wagged him, tucked the paper into his breast pocket, Crowley swallowed as he noticed how much care he took to crease it first, and turned the open sign to closed. “Now then, what is your news?”

*

They drank for hours. So long that Crowley almost forgot about the somewhat compromising position he’d found Aziraphale in. Almost. It had nettled him. There were so many people throughout history who had turned the Angel’s head, but it was always just a game to him. No real feelings. This time will likely end the same. So, what was it that made him boil so?

Crowley cleared his throat, stumbling up to pour himself another glass. “It won’t end well,” he blurted out before he could help it.

Aziraphale hiccped, holding his glass up for the Demon to fill his cup too, “What was that?”

“That man from today, s’not going to _end well_.”

Aziraphale looked at him through one eye. “No concern of yours how I spend my time, is it?” and he sipped his wine.

Crowley nearly choked on his drink. “No concern?” he said, letting the boiling rage splash like the wine on the floor.

“Are you iss-sh… Giving me orders now?” Aziraphale made to stand but thought better on it and just shifted position.

“Oh, no no, of _course not_ , you’re _great_ princcccipality!” Crowley courtsied, his skin turning a black color and going scaly all of a sudden. “Not at all, your worship, you always know what’s bessst, don’t you!” and he threw the bottle across the room, smashing it against the wall.

Aziraphale huffed, and stood up, “What!” staring from the wall back to Crowley and then again at the wall. “What has gotten into you?!” Aziraphale cried, snapping away the mess. “And since when do you even care about my… little indulgences, anyway?”

“Just living up to exxpectassionss, your holinessss.” Crowley couldn’t help it, his tongue came out, forked, and menacing in the Angels direction. The whole back office reeked of brimstone and sulfur.

Aziraphale stood up and sloppily marched over to the door. “You know I despise those,” and his nose crinkled, “Winds of Hell, or whatever your lot call them. If you are going to be miserably evil, you can bloody well take it outside!”

Maybe it was the cursing. Aziraphale so rarely cursed, but Crowley thought about apologizing, he really did. What he chose instead though, was turning into a serpent, hissed one last time at the Angel, and left, feeling a great sting of pride when Aziraphale jumped away from him, no matter how petty it was.

Aziraphale slammed the door behind him. How dare he insinuate! The gall! Of course, he would see the man again, and they would end as all the Angel’s love affairs had, cordially, cleanly. That’s all there was to that, and he stomped up to his flat to rest with a good book.

*

Three days later, Aziraphale was woken up by the phone. Groggily he answered it. “A.Z. Fell, how can we be of service?”

“It’s me,” Crowley’s voice crackled through the receiver.

Aziraphale glanced at the sleeping human next to him, his raven hair glistening in the early light, and sighed. “What is it?”

“I thought we could meet for lunch perhaps?” and the Angel could practically hear him shrug on the other end of the line.

Aziraphale knew it was a trap. He looked over at the man, still asleep, and rolled his shoulders. “Oh, alright. The usual?”

“Yes, I can be there in an hour.”

“I’ll see you then.”

*

The usual had become the Ritz after the Not-pocalypse. It was always decadent and life affirming, which was what they both craved, having reminders of that every few months was exactly what kept them both sane.

Crowley was already waiting at their table, having ordered Aziraphale’s favorite starter. “Welcome,” he said, standing up and pulling out his chair for him. “I hope you don’t mind, I took the liberty of ordering for you,” and he was all smiles.

But Aziraphale had known Crowley for too long and could see the crinkle between his eyebrows. He was pensive about something, concerned even. No matter, he’s going to spill soon enough, he thought. Sure enough, when the Angel sat down and tentatively took a bite, Crowley apologized, the words exploding from his mouth, the pensive look intensifying.

Aziraphale chewed carefully and swallowed, averting his eyes. “Oh, it’s alright, my dear” Aziraphale said, smiling as much as he was able, mumbling into his Champagne. “I can’t even remember what we were fighting about.” Lying had really gotten far too easy for the Angel, especially with Heaven no longer watching.

Thank God in Heaven Crowley trusted him to tell the truth. The rest of lunch was fairly uneventful. 

That is, until they went for a walk in the park.

“Wait, how do you not know his name?” Crowley gasped, disapproval coming off of him in waves. “And how often have you,” he cleared his throat, looking out into the middle distance, “Seen one another?”

“Not that it’s any of your business,” Aziraphale said as he kept walking, still, he truly gave it some thought. “Twice, if you must know. Forgive me, my dear, but he’s not really much of a … talker.” Aziraphale pulled in a deep breath and held it.

Crowley gave a sad little huff but seemed to drop it. They spent the rest of the day chatting about other things, as if everything was perfectly fine and nothing out of place.

*

“What do you mean, ‘ _That’s it_ ’?”

The man was gathering up his things, which were very few after only four visits, but he looked over at Aziraphale with those still very lusty eyes. “Hey, we had our fun, right? And it’s very enticing to stay,” he said, as his long fingers caressed the angels cheek, “But I’m afraid that’s it. It’s over.” He pulled him in for a kiss. One of the final kisses. The sharp honey tones speaking in such a way that something deep in Aziraphale’s stomach gave way.

Typically in these situations, Aziraphale was the one to break things off. Sure, the man was saying everything he usually said, in the same perfectly practiced tone, but damnit all, if he didn’t hate his lines being said by someone, well, not him.

“Can’t… Can’t you see a way to stay one more night?” Aziraphale said, leaning on the wall as the man packed up his overnight bag with a few final things.

“I’m afraid not, train to catch.” He said, actually sounding apologetic, and leaned over to give him one more last long familiar kiss, and then Aziraphale was quite suddenly alone.

*

“Oh, it’s you,” Crowley sneered, bumping into the man outside the bookshop. “I can come back later.”

The man put a hand on Crowley’s arm, rising up to his full height and a wide smile that showed lots of teeth. “Not at all, my fine fellow! He’s all yours,” and extended his hand to shake. Crowley did, more out of habit than obligation, the human leaned forward and whispered, “One snake to another, he’ll probably need a good _shoulder_ , so best get a move on.”

Suddenly, he was gone, like magic.

Crowley had no idea what to make of it, until he walked through the bookshop and into the small apartment attached, to find Aziraphale dumbstruck in bed. “Angel? Are you alright?”

Aziraphale seemed to have just noticed him. “I seem to be, don’t I?” he said, still propped up on the pillows, a book half heartedly resting on his legs.

Crowley knew two things very quickly. One was that Aziraphale looked as though he’d been crying. The other was that he didn’t know when, or how, but he instantly wanted to kill the man who’d done this.

But right now he needed to deal with the Angel in front of him, which was easier said than done. He leaned a bit on the wall. “Um,” he felt out of sorts, and looked around for a distraction. “Tea?”

“Please,” and Aziraphale looked down at his hands.

As Crowley started to move into the small kitchenette area, he heard Aziraphale mumble something. He poked his head back in. “What was that?”

“I still never did find out his name,” he said, sadly.

*

“Aziraphale, please,” Crowley said, picking up the clothing that was strewn about the room. “I know you’re naturally prone to this kind of thing, but really.”

Aziraphale was in bed. He was always in bed. A box of tissues beside him, and three books, all romances, splayed out, all at varying places in the plot. “Don’t tease me,” he said, blowing his nose.

Crowley apologized. He deposited the clothing in the hamper and collected them to bring to the dry cleaners. “Is there anything I can get you?”

“Cake? Some cake would be lovely.”

Crowley groaned, “But you had ice cream for breakfast!”

Aziraphale pouted and Crowley was powerless. He soon found himself picking up cake for his dear friend.

*

Crowley sat in a chair next to Aziraphale’s bed, watching him intently read until Aziraphale gave a huff and put down his book, taking off his glasses which almost got flung across the room. “What’s the point?”

“Sorry?”

“What’s the point of any of this? Why do we even bother? Do our corporeal forms reach out for companionship? Why are we all made of such _feelings_? Who designed that? Feels like a flaw if you asked me,” and Crowley produced a handkerchief from somewhere and handed it to him, attempting to make himself small in the chair.

Aziraphale gave a little “ooh” when it appeared in front of his face, and finally seemed to notice Crowley. “I’m so sorry, my dear, I’m pitiful company.”

Crowley swallowed and went back to examining his own hands. “No where else I’d rather be, Angel.”

Aziraphale seemed to perk up at that and picked up the book again.

*

“Not today.”

“Are you sure?”

“No, I’d like to stay in if you don’t mind.”

“Aziraphale, you haven’t left your flat in a month. That’s very unlike you.” Crowley bit his lip, giving a little shoving motion, “Come on, some fresh air will do you a world of –”

“I said _no, Crowley_ ,” and it was a command. But even Aziraphale must have heard how aggressive it was, because he added, hastily, “Please, I’m not ready.”

Crowley stiffened, and gave a curt nod. “Well, if it’s all the same to you,” and he let it hang in the air. The Angel nodded, and the Demon left.

*

Crowley isn’t usually the type to hunt people down. At least, not in the last millennia or so, anyway. Especially not no-named, green-eyed, raven-haired folk, who apparently have the ability to just vanish into thin air, a fact he was keeping from Aziraphale at this junction, he had enough troubles of his own. But there was no trail to follow, no spell to cast, no miracle to conjure. He’d just disappeared. 

Now if only Crowley had known what had transpired, he never would have let him go. As luck would have it, the man ended up finding him, skulking around his neighborhood pub.

Crowley had just ordered his third bottle of scotch after two weeks, alternating between checking in on a very heartbroken Angel, and the man-hunt, when suddenly there he was! The Demon stood up a bit shaky and, in a flash, had him against the wall. “You have no idea who I am, but you hurt someone very _very_ close to me, and, while I haven’t been in the business of killing people for a while now, I’m very much looking forward to being the guy who’s going to end you!”

The man seemed to laugh at that and whispered, “Oh, Crowley, I thought you’d be pleased!”

Crowley froze in place. He blinked too much, and let him go, but he didn’t move back. “Did Aziraphale tell you my name?”

The man blinked at him. “My _dear_ fellow! Don’t you recognize me?”

Crowley finally took a few steps back, and then dragged him out into the street and down an alleyway. “What – what is this about?”

The man was still smiling but he shook his head. “You really have no idea who I am? Oh, Crowley, that hurts.” He paced the alley. “You fight in each other’s armies, provide a favor here and there, teach one another magic tricks, and the Demon’s completely lost your scent after all this time!” He shrugged. “Well, alright, perhaps this will kick the old memory box,” and with a straightening of his cuffs, the veiled illusion the man had faded away. In his place stood the God of Mischief himself, still smiling, his armaments made of the best Asgardian Steel, and a staff appeared in his hand. He gave a bow, and smirked, just as the penny dropped for Crowley.

Crowley lunged for him again, but his hands were just flailing at the air, and he ended up pinching the bridge of his nose. He whispered, “Loki?”

“The one and only, friend,” he said, twirling his staff.

“But – But why?”

Loki almost looked hurt again, his hand clutching at his throat. “My-my, what has time done to your poor addled Demon brain, Crowley.” He shook his head, but regained his composure. “My fine fellow, do you not recall how you lamented your friend, Aziraphale and his,” he searched for the word, “appetites? Especially when he had a morsel like you _directly_ in front of him? Well I promised you, should the opportunity arise, that I’d teach him a lesson for you.”

Crowley’s face was pale and sickly, “W-was I drunk at the time?” Loki only laughed. Crowley cleared his thought, “Loki, I appreciate what you tried to … I didn’t think you’d do this!”

“A God of Mischief always keeps his promises. Besides,” and his eyebrows wiggled, “I left the bed _warm_ for you,” and he clapped the Demon on the back.

If Crowley didn’t know any better, he thought he was going to be sick. “Now, see here Loki, I never –”

“No need to thank me, Odin knows I owed you a debt. Let us consider it paid, shall we?”

“I don’t think that’s what happ –”

“Excellent, well my work here is done! Next time you find yourself in Asgard, please come for supper, Mother would _so_ love to see you!” and with a tap of his staff, he was mist on the wind.

*

Crowley froze, unable to move for what felt like forever, and then he sighed, putting his face in his hands and rubbing his eyes. He leaned on the building wall for what felt like eternity, but then, with a snap, he was back around the corner from the Bookshop. He waffled, shifting his weight from foot to foot, but eventually, let himself in.

“Aziraphale?” he said, brightly into the din. Of course, the Angel was still not out of the bed, but he didn’t want to believe that. He came back into the flat, ducking his head a little when he was back in the bedroom.

Aziraphale was sleeping. Peacefully. A book dangling off his lap.

Crowley sat back down in his chair, looking forward to sleeping off his drink, and trying to understand exactly what he’d gotten them both into.

*

“Crowley, good morning,” Aziraphale said, sitting up. “I’m so sorry I didn’t go out with you yesterday. Did you want … maybe we could do something today?”

The Angel was feeling guilty now, and wanting to make up for it. Wonderful. Just exactly what the Demon did not need.

Crowley exhaled deeply and shook his head. “Aziraphale, we need to talk about something.”

Aziraphale sat up a little straighter.

“I… I want to talk … What you do with humans has got to stop…”

Aziraphale rolled his eyes. “I know, you don’t approve, but it’s not my fault if you’re not interested.”

“Not Interested?!”

Aziraphale fixed him with dagger eyes.

“Whoever said anything about –” Crowley clenched his jaw. After a few breaths, he tried again, through clenched teeth. “You don’t seem to take your conquests’ feelings into account.”

Aziraphale looked hurt. “Really? Coming from a Demon, that’s rich, that is. I am made of love, and we share love and then it’s over. I don’t understand what it is you want from me other than that. How _exactly_ do I not –”

Crowley had been taking deep breaths, until finally, “Angel, listen to me. What you’re feeing right now is exactly what each and every human you’ve… abandoned also felt.”

“Ab.. Aban.. Now see here!”

Crowley opened his arms, looking for Aziraphale to take a swing if he was being honest, but hoping he would see that he wasn’t letting the Angel rile him up.

Aziraphale paused. Maybe it was the vulnerable gesture. “Is this really what they go through?” He said, genuinely surprised. “Oh, oh no,” he swallowed a sob. “I’d thought it was mutual. They’d all said they understood.”

“I’ve heard your little speech; you merely dominated the conversation.” Crowley sniffed, handing him another handkerchief, which he took. “Had you given them a reason to think saying anything would change your mind?”

Aziraphale looked lost.

“I’m not telling you this to make you… I…”

Aziraphale blinked at him. “Why are you telling me this?”

Crowley put his hands in his pockets. “Well, two reasons, actually.” He said, and he tried to swallow passed the sudden lump in his throat. Aziraphale was just watching him. “The first is because… Because I was worried you were hard-hearted where your conquests are concerned. I looked in on one of them once. He was a young lad, bright. A mess after your little talk though. I took him on a trip to see India, and China. Seemed to perk him up a bit.”

Aziraphale blinked at him, looking back down at his hands. “I honestly had no idea.”

“I know.”

“They all seemed to enjoy their time with me and then, well, it was fun and it was … over.”

“I know. It was over for you.”

Aziraphale looked up at Crowley horrified by the way he’d behaved, but he shook his head and took a few deep breaths, attempting to take it in stride. “You’d said two reasons?”

“With your wandering eye looking in so many offhanded places, going to so many detached aquantances, to people you’d barely met… You never once saw me.” Aziraphale’s eyes widened. Crowley continued, quickly, before Aziraphale could interrupt. “Look, I know you don’t want me, that’s obvious. Why else would you find other people to spend your time with when I’m right here, but it was so shameless and blatant that I started … I complained about it to some friends and one in particular took it upon himself to give you a dose of your own medicine, so to speak.”

Aziraphale looked puzzled. “You know who the man was?”

Crowley shifted in his seat before standing up and pacing, “I mean, yes, yes, I do _now_!” He ran his hands through his hair.

“Who is it?” he said, shaking his head with this new information.

Crowley’s eyes shifted to glance at the Angels face. “Why do you want to know?”

“I… I don’t.” Aziraphale quieted himself. “I was merely curious.”

Crowley’s jaws clenched. “See? You want to go and find him, don’t you? See what love does to people?”

Aziraphale blinked rapidly. “No, no that’s not it.”

Crowley just nodded. “I’m sure it isn’t.”

“No, you misunderstand, I’m sad because I wasn’t the one who said goodbye…” The Angel huffed, and shook his head again. “They _didn’t_ matter, you’re right. He doesn’t matter, Crowley. None of them do.” and he gave him a sad smile, “But, you’re different.”

Crowley barked a laugh that was pained and sick. “That’s exactly what I’m saying!”

Aziraphale shook his head again. “No, Crowley, listen to me. I only ever wanted you. I didn’t think you’d want me. I’m an Angel after all, in love with a Demon. Who would want that? So, I spent time with those who were… easier… and mattered less…” Aziraphale was worrying his handkerchief and looking desperately at Crowley. He stood up, but his legs were a little wobbly from so many weeks in bed. He made his way over to the Demon, who braced for a fight, but instead the Angel hugged him. “I’m sorry, Crowley. I never wanted you to feel this way.”

Crowley’s arms were pinned to his side, and he didn’t know what to do. “I don’t know how you expected me to feel.”

“Well, I had no idea you felt the same, did I?” Aziraphale said chuckling into his sleeve.

Crowley clenched his teeth and stepped backwards, forcing Aziraphale to brace himself on his chair. “I can’t do this, Aziraphale. I’m not… This wasn’t what I wanted?”

Aziraphale dabbed at his eyes. “Are you sure? It’s what I’ve always wanted, since the beginning.”

Crowley shrugged. “I’ve seen what you do to the people who love you, Angel. I’m… I’m not interested.”

It was a boldfaced lie. They both knew it.

Aziraphale straightened up. “Really?”

Crowley nodded, pointedly looking at the ceiling.

Aziraphale gave a little, “hmm,” and walked back over to him and hugged him again, this time looking him in the face. “You’re telling me you’re not thrilled to have me in your arms.”

Crowley was still looking at the ceiling but he wasn’t nodding.

“Look, I know we have a lot to work on. But I’m here now. I don’t want to waste our time together. I’d rather talk all of this out over food… Could I tempt you to some dinner?”

Crowley was still looking at the ceiling when he slowly nodded again. “It’s going to take a lot, Angel.”

Aziraphale nodded, “Yes I imagine it will, but we’ll figure it out together?”

Crowley nodded again and looked down. Aziraphale’s face was so close. He swallowed and leaned in for a tentative kiss, which the Angel met him half way. They stayed like that for a few moments, and someone sobbed, someone gasped, and eventually they did go out to dinner to talk more. But at the end of the day, they knew everything was going to be better. And it was good.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It would be wonderful if only things weren't awkward. Aziraphale is not sure how to address it, until he finds some unexpected inspiration.

“Do you remember that time in the.. what was it, the twelfth century?” Aziraphale asked, all smiles.

Crowley glanced over, eyebrows raised.

“There was some kind of plague or something and you were nervous the townspeople were going to discorporate you?” He gestured with his fork trying to jog Crowley’s memory.

“M’hm, eleventh," Crowley drained his drink, quickly pouring himself another, and topping off Aziraphale's glass absently. "Towards the end of the Fatimid Caliphate.”

“Yes! Yes, what were you doing over there anyway?”

Crowley shrugged.

Aziraphale’s gaze went to his plate, uncertainly. “Well, it’s not any real matter… I was just curious…" Aziraphale skewered his food, and chewed carefully, eyes darting around the table. "But anyway, I thought it was all rather clever of how you escaped.”

“I always thought I scandalized you with the retelling of that.” Crowley swirled the wine round his glass before trying it.

Aziraphale shook his head, a small smile as he spoke around his food. “No, my dear, I couldn’t  _ say _ anything at the time. Not with my si-, uhm, well, not with Heaven, you know  _ listening _ .”

The barest of nods.

“That was when I got the idea to start a business, you know.” He whispered. “That way you’d always have an escape plan. A wagon or something to hide in, oh, quite marvelous really.”

“You don’t even have a book-truck though,” He sipped his wine, and made some sound between a gasp and a chuckle.

“I suppose, but I’ve thought of getting one this whole time.”

And then the silence returned. Aziraphale’s eyes did their best to take in Crowley with every moment and second that passed, but he barely moved. The only sounds were metal utensils on plates, and the occasional happy little sigh from himself at the scrumptious food.

Despite his chipper attitude, Aziraphale didn’t like being the one doing most of the talking. Of course, it wouldn’t have been so bad if it didn’t mean that as soon as he stopped, they both fell back into the Ominous Quiet. Of all the millennia they’d seen each other, carefully planned out rendezvous’ where they’d need to remain silent for prying eyes, this quiet was different. These meetings had never been … strained before. This felt earned somehow. He fidgeted, not liking that thought at all. 

They ate. Or rather, Aziraphale ate. Crowley drank. Not nearly as much as his usual though, staring into the middle distance. Aziraphale had begun to visibly fidget, and move a crumble of bread around in the sauce, absently. 

Finally, Crowley broke the silence for the first time that evening. “You never play with your food, Angel. Something on your mind?” He said, his face a blank, hiding behind those lovely glasses.

Aziraphale gave a hefty sigh. “This is… awkward.”

“Well, yes.”

Aziraphale set down his fork. “I didn’t want this to be…”

“Awkward?”

“No – Well, yes, but…” he swallowed. “I'm trying, I am, I just didn't want this to be so… Hard.”

Crowley shrugged.

“Please, don’t do that,” he chided.

“Do what?”

Aziraphale looked at him seriously. “Dismiss me.”

Crowley’s eyebrows raised. “I’m not," the Angel ducked his head, but met Crowley’s eyes with a side glance. "That's not what I, no, Aziraphale, look. This was … always going to be a problem for us. If we ended up here. This way, at least."

Aziraphale looked at him puzzled. "I'd imagined many different things happening, this was not the outcome." He allowed himself a small smile. "But then, my imaginings were always, hmm, private affairs," and he let his eyes speak for him, giving the Demon a very poignant once over.

Crowley blushed and sat back, carding his fingers through his hair, letting this thumb rest on his temple. Looking anywhere except at him, he said, "Can we not…"

Aziraphale looked at him, cocking his head to the side, his brow furrowed. "You said it would take a lot."

"That wasn't what I meant, Angel," and Crowley sputtered, panting. "And anyway since when is an Angel of the Lord the first over a Demon of Satan to recommend.. To suggest…" 

Aziraphale picked up his fork again. "My dear, you act as if you don't  _ know _ me." He gave Crowley another sultry glance, one that had penetrated even the most stubborn human.

Crowley shook his head, his smile a little sour.

Aziraphale sighed. "Then what? What can I do for you, I so desperately want this to work."

Crowley swallowed, looking at him. Perhaps testing his sincerity. Aziraphale did his best to portray his willingness in his features, he could always count on them to give him away. "Well, for one thing," and he shifted position, "if we're really doing this, we can't go backwards."

Aziraphale smiled, broadly. "I agree, it would be quite untenable."

Crowley's expression didn't change. "Don't you understand angel? Everything is different."

"I … I don't see that it has to be." Aziraphale finally ate the last bite of his food. 

Crowley wore a grave expression. After a moment to glance around, he moved his glasses to the edge of his nose. "'Fraid so."

Aziraphale was struck momentarily by the yellow eyes and gave a little exclaimed “oh” sound before responding with, "Well why, then?"

"Angel -"

"My feelings for you haven't changed." Aziraphale looked steadily at him. "Ha... Have yours?"

"No, but it's not about -"

"There it is! So, that settles it."

Aziraphale wasn't entirely sure when Crowley stood up, but suddenly he was looming over him. He hadn't moved his glasses back yet and his eyes were aflame. "ANGEL!" He shouted. "It's DIFFERENT because we AREN'T FRIENDS ANYMORE and can never be again, don't you see that!?"

Aziraphale's eyes widened. "We're not friends anymore?"

Maybe it was the way his voice cracked, but Crowley's rage seemed to instantly soften. With the same urgency, tapping on the table gently, he whispered, "Not  _ just _ friends, Aziraphale. Not ever again. That's why I never said anything." He smiled sadly. "Because now, all my six thousand years of perfecting a pleasant air of comradery has been destroyed." 

Aziraphale brushed off the joke, a smile bursting from his face anyway, and grabbed for one of his hands. "I don't want to be  _ just friends _ anymore anyway, that's what I've been saying."

"You haven't said anything of the sort!" Crowley blinked a few times, and then reached into his pocket. Leaving some miracled money on the table. "I'm going." When Aziraphale didn't let go of his hand, he squeeze it and said. "I'll be by later."

Aziraphale was left alone at the table with his thoughts.

*

“Oh dear, oh dear,” Aziraphale murmured, using a napkin to wipe his mouth. 

He moved more than ones to chase after him, but instead he stayed where he was, shifting uncomfortably. If Crowley had wanted him to follow, he surely would have said. He would have used some daft excuse and, sure as anything, Aziraphale would have followed. But he’d just left. Still, he’d come by later, that was nice. 

For many  _ many  _ years, Aziraphale fantasized that when, (not if, but when, otherwise what on earth would have made it romantic enough in the first place) his relationship to Crowley grew beyond friendship that they’d kiss each other and it would be like a whole new world opening before them. Well, they’d kissed for certain. Although not the way he’d imagined it (and especially not on the heels of one of his indulgences at any rate). Crowley didn’t seem as pleased and he couldn’t reason out why.

The Angel was still wondering what was wrong, when a voice pulled him from his revery. “Having a domestic?” the waitress said, bringing over a dessert that Aziraphale had completely forgotten about. 

“Mm?” Aziraphale was quite out of sorts.

The waitress pointed where Crowley’s empty chair. “Lover’s tiff, eh?”

Aziraphale could feel his face harden into the polite smile he reserved for rude patrons. “Nothing so intimate, miss.”

The waitress made a show of cleaning up a fairly pristine table cloth. “I’ve seen you both before. I have to say, I never seen you two fight! Didn’t think it happened.” 

Aziraphale took a spoon and dug into the dessert, giving her a short smile and wishing she’d leave. 

“Thing is, my mates, Jasper and Colin see, well, they remind me of you two, just got together last spring. But they were friends first.” 

Aziraphale swallowed, attempting to look uninterested, but now he was hanging on every word. 

“But then, after they got together, Jasper insisted that they take a vacation together. Because the routine stuff didn’t feel  _ special enough _ like. He wanted to know it meant something, that it was important that they did the right thing. It’s hard for friends to just become  _ more _ than friends. Not just hanging out as mates, that  _ now _ it meant more, you know?” The waitress smiled up at Aziraphale. “But you two look like you’ve been together for a while though, so I’m sure it’s completely different.”

Aziraphale blinked at her and gave a crooked smile.

“Didn’t mean to babble, sir. I just, well, I hope you work it out. I’m rooting for you two,” and she gave a little wave, which he actually returned despite himself. He added his money to Crowley’s, with a little extra for tip, and headed off. Lot’s to do, and so little time.

*

When Crowley arrived back at the bookshop, he held some flowers and a bottle of wine. It was dusk, and he stood on the threshold, willing himself to knock, but his courage was stuck behind the lump in his throat. This was a familiar lump. Something he’d spent the last six thousand years attempting to repress, but now he had it for a very different reason.

What if it didn’t work out? He couldn’t get passed that. 

What if the biggest mistake of his life happened and it was already destroying everything? 

Taking a few deep breaths, he finally knocked, pushing his fears to the back of his mind. After all, hadn’t he and Aziraphale saved the world a little while back? This should be a piece of cake.

“Be right with you!” came the angel’s voice. Crowley braced himself, but found it hard to focus when the door actually opened. 

Aziraphale’s face lit up completely when he saw Crowley, but it was the suit he was wearing that caused Crowley to be speechless. Specifically, it was one of his most finest suits, a darker grey than he usually favored, with shocks of red in the threading. The brocade vest was of a deep wine color, that allowed the red to pop even more. His hair was done up and his cologne was intoxicatingly him. 

“Evening, dear,” and his eyes sparkled.

“Erm -” Crowley’s mouth dropped open a little in shock. 

“Are those for me!” and Aziraphale stepped forward to take the flowers that Crowley dumbfoundedly offered. “Thank you, they’re lovely” he said, making a show of breathing in their sweet scent. “Come in, please.”

Crowley strode into the bookshop. Same old place, except it seemed there was something … different. There was a soothing smell to the air, a contentedness that he hadn’t really picked up on until now. But he couldn’t quite pinpoint it. “I - I had thought we’d stay in and talk ... but you look dressed for a night out?”

Aziraphale cocked his head to the side. “I’d only wanted to … I thought I’d ... “ and he blushed, moving towards the back to put the flowers into a vase. 

Crowley followed him. “Did you?” Aziraphale looked up, questioningly. “Want to go out? We can. It’s not too late, we could take in a film, or a walk if you like?”

Aziraphale was bashful again, and spent the time arranging the flowers to his enjoyment. “There’s something I should say first.”

Crowley stood stock still. 

Aziraphale shifted on his feet before finally bringing the flowers to the table Crowley had barely noticed. “Crowley, I’m very sorry that I…” he swallowed. “That I treated you the way I did.”

“Angel,” Crowley muttered. “There’s nothing to apologize for.”

“Please, I - I need to get this out.” Aziraphale shot him a pleading look and his hands fluttered in front of him. At Crowley’s nod, the Angel continued. “I treated you… well, had I the courage before hand, I would have handled things much different, I think. But I was,” and he laughed but there was no humor in it. “Soft.” he said quietly.

“But I love that about you,” Crowley said, breathlessly, and found it was true. It seemed he would not be in charge of his words this evening, his brain had other plans. Aziraphale gave him a smile but blinked slowly at him. Crowley put his fingers to his lips with a sly smirk. He did his best not to move and only watch him. 

Aziraphale’s movements stuttered for a brief moment, “Oh, right, slipped my mind,” and he snapped his fingers.

The typically plain table was suddenly lined with a deep red colored cloth and brilliant silverware. There were high-backed chairs too, black with red cushions and the table revealed two black candelabra with red candles. 

Aziraphale went to one side and pulled a chair free for Crowley to sit down. “Please?” he said, tilting his head. 

Crowley made his way over and sat down, Aziraphale giving it a little push.

“Marvelous,” Aziraphale said, lighting the candles and rubbing his hands together. “What else, Oh!” and he rushed up into his flat. Crowley wasn’t sure what to do. So he lounged there for another few moments, just drinking in the scent of contentment all around him. It was so strong, and heady. He decided to open his bottle of wine to let it breath, before pouring it out for each of them.

“There we are,” came the Angel’s dulcet tones as they returned back down the stairs. When he finally heard the Angels’ footfalls behind him, he turned, his mouth falling open again.

Aziraphale was balancing a pretty large food tray that had enumerable delicious things upon it. Crowley craned his neck to try and see, but soon enough Aziraphale brought all of them to rest on the table and gently moved each dish to it’s designated spot. He even gently miracled a side table for some of the smaller dishes, turning a lovely shade of pink. 

“Well,” he said, sighing when all was laid out with a rather pleased smile upon his face. “What do you think?” He looked over at Crowley, expectantly.

The Demon sputtered a bit, and looked at all of the dishes before admitting, “I d-don’t know… What is all of this, Angel?”

Aziraphale smiled, proudly. “Why, darling. Each dish is meant to represent yet another moment that I fell deeply and utterly in love with you,” and he smiled. 

He stayed smiling, as if it didn’t just stop Crowley’s heart. Crowley made a very small sound, nearly like a gasp. If he hadn’t already been sitting down, he might have fainted. 

“I suppose I should toast then, shall I? My dear, you look a bit peaked,” and he put a glass in Crowley’s hand. “To starting over?” he chimed the glassed together, tentatively sipping. 

Thankfully, Crowley did sip and it somewhat revived him. “I don’t know what to say, Angel.” 

“No need to say anything my dear, I only hope you enjoy it.”

Everything was in two smallish portions, just enough for a taste across the palate, just as Crowley enjoyed most things. He felt his cheeks go red. “Where should I start?” he offered, fork in hand.

Aziraphale thought on that, picking up his own fork. “Well, to go chronologically would be oysters I think.”

Crowley cracked a small smile, and gave a pleasant sound as he picked up the dish, divided it, and gave some to aziraphale. “Where did you get all of this, Angel?”

Aziraphale really was grinning now, pleased with Crowley’s reaction. “Well, I called in some favors,” he said, focusing on his food but still smiling broadly.

“I think it’s lovely, Angel,” he said, wistfully, dipping the oyster in a thick dark sauce. “I really am intrigued by the modern sauces. Not that Rome didn’t have it’s fine quality accoutrements.”

“I rather agree,” Aziraphale said, his eyes closed as he sniffed at the morsel on his fork before eating it, breathing steadily and enjoying every moment. Crowley leaned forward to watch. He loved watching Aziraphale eat, almost more than anything else. “Although,” Aziraphale said, delicately between chews, “the company is just as delightful,” one eye cracked to see Crowley gazing at him.

Crowley grinned, his cheeks turning the most precious shade of pink.

*

The meal went on much like that for the better part of an hour. By the time they reached the last dish, it was well dark out, and they were only two bottle’s deep into the wine.  _ I’d like it if we stayed somewhat lucid tonight, if that’s all the same to you, my dear? _ Aziraphale had requested and Crowley agreed.

Crowley was licking his fingers as Aziraphale watched. The unmistakable look of a predator there, spotting prey. Crowley grinned and licked slower. 

“I do so wish I’d had the courage to have you sooner?”

“Have me?” Crowley said, breathlessly. 

Aziraphale blinked at him. “If that’s what you want to do as well. I’m fine either way.” He hid behind his wine glass.

“What exactly does  _ having _ entail, then,  _ Angel _ ?” and he drew out the pet name, giving Aziraphale lusty eyes.

Aziraphale licked his lips. “We can discuss the particulars later, I’ve more to show you tonight. That is if the food hasn’t made your tired?”

Crowley smiled, showing teeth. “I’m up for anything, fire away Aziraphale.”

Aziraphale smiled, nodding. “Is there a place you’ve never been?”

Crowley tilted his head, “Well, I always wanted to spend time in Greenland, but it never really came up.”

Aziraphale’s eyebrows raised, “Really? For a snake like you, I would think it’s too cold up there.” Crowley shrugged. “Alright, give us a mo.”

Crowley only had half a mo to try and understand what was happening, but then suddenly Aziraphale gripped his arms and they were miracled away to Ilulissat in Disco bay, standing in front of a homey little cottage overlooking some lovely ice flows. They were wearing some lovely warm finery, and Aziraphale was approaching the cottage and snapping his fingers to get in. Crowley stood flabbergasted, but eventually followed inside. 

A fire was rolling in the hearth, and Aziraphale seemed to be pulling some other spirits from somewhere in the kitchen area. There was a loveseat and a stairway leading up to what appeared to be the bedroom. 

“What do you think?” Aziraphale asked, bouncing over to him with something that smelled sweet, like a port.

“I… I think you never cease to amaze me Angel,” he said, clinking glasses.

*

“Do you feel better?”

Crowley groaned, “Much.” he said, as Aziraphale massaged his shoulders. “Why the food and the fancy dinner - Wh-What are we doing here, Aziraphale? I’m not complaining, I’m just… a little confused.”

The pressure from Aziraphale’s fingers lightened a little, but continued. “I wanted to show you how special you are. How much I value our time together. It was selfish of me to think that everything would just… work itself out, that we could continue doing the things we’d always done without making clear that things are different. Even if the events are the same, well, they’re different now. I guessed that the best way to do that was to do something we’d never done together.”

Crowley nodded, and moaned as Aziraphale worked on his back. “I wasn’t thinking about it that way, but I suppose you’re right. It was… Not bothering me exactly, but just didn’t feel right.” He hissed as the Angel found a small knot of tension. 

“I’m sorry, my dear, should I stop?” his fingers were so light on Crowley’s shoulders.

“No,” he said, grabbing for Aziraphale’s hand. “Please don’t, it’s just, that’s where the wing joint is.” 

“Oh,” Aziraphale said, letting out a breath that ghosted along Crowley’s neck and made him shiver. “I’ll be gentle then. Yours are the most lovely wing’s I’ve ever seen.”

“Shut it,” Crowley said, sipping his port.

“No, I mean it,” Aziraphale made a few more presses in reverence, and then cuddled Crowley close, draping his arms around to his front and putting his face on his shoulder. “I’d always thought this would happen and I, I’m so sorry my dear, because I always thought it would be instantly perfect.”

Crowley cleared his throat. “Of course, you did, you’re a romantic.”

Crowley could feel Aziraphale smile and gave a small huff. “I suppose you’re right. I’d always hoped to have you in my arms. It wasn’t until you said what you said about not seeing you because... I’ve always seen you, my dear.” Crowley closed his eyes. “In my own way I thought I was protecting you. I’m so sorry, my dear. My love. If I’d known the pain you were in, I would have told you a long time ago.”

Crowley’s eyes welled up, stinging and hot. All the years of pain, watching Aziraphale bed people he’d barely met came across, the years of pining, of not knowing if Aziraphale was ok, of not seeing his Angel for decades at a time, all the years, the millenia, of wanting and waiting came crashing into him. He let go of a sob, and Aziraphale rested his head on the back of his neck. They stayed like that for a time.

“Do you forgive me?”

Crowley wiped his eyes. “There’s nothing to forgive. Though I’d request that be over now, if it’s all the same to you?”

“Of course!” Aziraphale said, holding on tighter. 

Crowley smiled, and gripped his arms. “Could you say something for me?”

The Angel came round to look him in the face, taking his hands in his. “I solemnly swear, never again. Why would I need to -”

“No, not that Angel, I believe you.”

Aziraphale smiled, his face a little wet from crying as well. “Anything.”

“Could you call me, ‘My Love’ again?”

Crowley watched as Aziraphale took his face and planted gentle tender kisses on his cheeks, then, Aziraphale whispered “My Love” hovering above his lips and Crowley closed the distance. They stayed locked like for a while.


End file.
